Requiem for the Mice
by Lady Shockbox
Summary: Written as a classroom assignment. An alternate ending of "Of Mice and Men" that replaces the book's last chapter. Slim, Curly, and Carlson hear gunshots during their search for Lennie and they investigate. They find more than they bargained for. Oneshot.


I read _Of Mice and Men _in class as a high school requirement and absolutely fell in love with it. I finished reading the book an entire week ahead of my classmates, and we had two choices for writing our final paper on what we thought about the book. Our first choice was to write an essay, but the second option included re-writing the last chapter of the book. Pretty much everyone in the class took the second option. Out of all of them though, mine was the only one without a happy ending. Anyways, this is that same story. I figured I would post it because I wanted to give this fandom some love. I had a bit of a hassle trying to get the sound of the dialogue just right too, so please bear with me. For the disclaimer, I do not own anything aside from the ending chapter's plot. Steinbeck owns everything else. Concrit would be loved.

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_Lux Aeterna _- Clint Mansell

**i**

A field mouse, dark brown and adorning a white spot that painted its flank, darted out from underneath a pile of sycamore leaves that had been blown off the main road by the hot winds that often swept down from the Gabilan mountains.

The hilltops were a deep gold in the slowly descending sun's glare and the mouse looked from side to side in the same way a water snake might so when looking above the reeds in search of potential predators. Both ways down the road were barren of activity and only the birds twittering in the trees gave any indication of life that was nearby. The mouse squeaked and twitched its whiskers and quickly sat up to quickly groom itself in its radiating sense of nervousness. The small beast then readied itself to dash across the dirt road so it could drink at the river. Thirst was trying to claim him all throughout the day, and now he could resist the temptation.

He darted.

The little mouse raced straight across the dusty road without daring to look back over his shoulder, but his exhaustion made him unaware of the predator who had been watching him from beneath the sycamore tree he was running to. As soon as the mouse had reached his destination, he paused for a fatal moment beside a root that had been jutting out from the ground. In that instant, the snake that had concealed itself there launched out from the shadows and struck the mouse right on its white spot like it was a target. The mouse squeaked feebly once before the snake increased its hold by biting down with bone crushing force. It then proceeded to constrict the mouse, but by then the rodent was already dead. The mouse's wide, lifeless, and dilated eyes stared up towards the sky and the sun that was descending over the horizon to the west.

The deep green pool of the Salinas River was still in the late afternoon. The light had almost completely left the valley with the setting sun and the dark brown sycamore leaves scuttled on the ground so that their silver undersides caught in the sun and darkness when they came into the shade of the trees they had been shed from. The wind died down almost immediately afterward, and it gave leeway for the gunshot that followed to tear through the air without competition in regards to the sound it produced. Birds in the treetops squawked and fled by taking flight, scattering in the sky so that their bodies were merely black dots on the sky.

The mare quarter horse spooked badly and bucked. Her hooves kicked up a storm of dust on the dirt road and Curly, unable to use his broken hand to grasp the reins and keep himself steady, cried out and was butted right off. The chestnut mare snorted and gave a shrill cry reminiscent of a squeal before she steadied herself and charged ahead up the road at a run.

Slim said, "Told ya you had ought to stay with yer' wife, Curly!" His voice had an aggravated tone to it, and in no way did it invite confidence.

The later of the two cursed and tried to scramble to his feet. He failed and toppled over again with a loud, rude curse. "Get 'er back here, Slim!"

The other man didn't bother to respond. Instead, he kicked his mare square in the flanks with the spikes of his spurs and the bay horse cantered ahead.

Carlson said, "That sounded like my Luger! I'd remember that sound anywhere!"

"Ya sure?"

"I God damn _know_ I'm sure," he yelled back over his shoulder when his horse started to turn around to face the opposite direction in her excitement. Heavy, gold colored dust was kicked up from her hooves. It twinkled in the sunlight like golden motes, but then it seemed to evaporate into the air instead of settling. "Lennie's 'round here somewhere!"

"Where'd the shot come from?" Curly's voice shook a little when he tried to stand, which was an indication that he was still somewhat shaken from his fall. He obviously willed to not let it show in his voice when he grated his teeth and hissed outloud to himself, "Where'd that big bastard run to?"

At this point, Slim finally came back leading Curly's horse by her reins. The mare still seemed spooked and her eyes were still wild with the urge to flee, but she was otherwise all right in stark comparison to Curly. Said man still had his arm in a cast and who was covered with dirt from the road. Slim let go of the mare as soon as Curly hooked his foot into the stirrup to mount. Slim glanced around and then looked at Carlson. "What was that about?"

"It was my Luger. I'm damn well sure of it," Carlson hissed. His mare was still trying to do circles, but then he straightened her out by yanking back hard on the leather reins. The quarter horse gave a breathy whine of displeasure from feeling the bit cut back against her mouth, but she voiced no more complaints by finally settling down and standing still.

Then there was a second shot.

Now it was time for Carlson's horse to spook. The mare reared up and kicked out her front legs in a violent protest of terror and even Slim's horse was unnerved by the gunshot. The quarter horse tried to turn tail but Slim held fast and yanked back hard on his reins to still the animal's frightened movements. Curly was much luckier than the both of them, as all his horse did was to throw her head up high into the air in mild trepidation.

"_Christ,"_ Slim said. He suddenly kicked his horse hard in the sides with his spurs and the mare bolted off towards the general direction of the booming thunder crack. Whereas they were higher up on the road, the sound of the gunshot was swallowed up by the valley below. It emphasized on the sound by making it echo almost as if it were in a cave and not in the open under the mountains and setting sun. Carlson and Curly immediately followed suit after Slim without a word towards the noise, but then there was the now tense realization that it was eerily silent. The sun hit their backs while it descended over the tops of the Gabilan mountains to the west, and their shadows were thrown out ahead of them like long black bars of a cell.

A wind blew and settled again just as quickly.

Finally, the road gave way to open fields and to their oncoming left was a small oasis. Surrounding it were sycamore trees with mottled, white, recumbent limbs and branches that arched over the pool. On the sandy bank under the trees, the leaves lied so deep that a lizard would have made a great skittering if he ran over them. The three men saw nothing out of place at first, and Slim would have seen a snake that was swallowing a mouse whole if he had moved his mare a few feet closer to the largest sycamore tree that overlooked the still water the greatest. There was a path through the willows and among the sycamores, a path beaten hard by boys coming down from the ranches to swim in the deep pool, and beaten hard by tramps who come wearily down from the highway in the evening to jungle-up near water. In front of the low horizontal limb of the giant sycamore there was an ash pile made by many fires, and the limb was worn smooth by the men who had sat on it.

Carlson dismounted his horse shakily, and he looked ready to be sick. "By Christ…"

Sprawled on top of that limb was George. If one were standing slightly off to the side beside the sycamore tree in the same place that you would have been able to see the snake eating the mouse, it would have appeared as if the smaller man was sleeping on the limb on his belly. If you moved to where Carlson was standing though, a little further away beside Slim and Curly, if would have been obvious that he was dead. The side of his head was matted red from the fresh bullet wound against his skull, and the hand that was still holding the Luger was limp lying against the ground over a collection of leaves. Above, the sunlight shimmering through the tree tops made little bars of shadow cast itself over the illuminated leaves. George's eyes were wide open and dilated.

Not too far away from where the smaller man was lying, Lennie was also dead and sprawled out on the ground. His face was planted in the sand on the bank of the water edge, but he looked just as peaceful as Curly's wife had been. Again, the branches above made little lines of light gleam on the larger man's back, and the place where he was shot at the base of his neck was illuminated bright with the golden light of the sun brightly shining on it.

Carlson ran a hand through his hair. He said nothing. Neither did Curly.

"Christ awmighty," Slim said slowly. He dismounted from his horse and moved up beside Carlson. At the same time, Curly also dismounted, but he had less succession with doing it successfully. His horse decided to spook again, and the mare skittered back just enough to make Curly loose his balance when he tried to get his foot out of the stirrup. He fell backward onto the road because he wasn't able to use his broken hand to steady himself while he was still standing. The horse sauntered away almost casually after Curly fell and cursed after her, but the man still had some dignity left noting that Slim and Carlson didn't see his clumsy fall. They were too preoccupied staring at the bodies by the water under the trees.

Carlson muttered, "What happened 'ere, Slim?" Though it was a question, it sounded more like a statement. This was probably because it was underlined with shock. "I wasn' goin' to think we'd find Lennie alive with my Luger, but I wasn' expectin' this. Think Lennie shot George an' then killed himself?"

"No," Slim said bluntly. "George is holding the gun there. See? George went an' killed 'im."

"Maybe they was fightin'," Curly cut in. In a similar manner as Carlson, his address sounded less like a question and more of a statement. "Maybe they was fightin' or somethin' like that. George tried to take the dumb bastard in an' Lennie wouldn' have nothin' of it."

"Then how'd he get the gun?" Slim's voice was incredulous, and he took of his hat and wiped his forehead with a dusty hand. When he pulled his hand back, there was a large smear of dust across his sweaty forehead. He stepped forward under the shadow of the trees to get a closer look at the bodies. "If they was fightin', then how did George manage to get the gun from Lennie? It doesn' make much sense."

"Lennie ain't a genius. It probably didn't take much to outsmart 'im," Curly said. He paused for a moment and looked inwardly thoughtful. Then he said, "Well, Lennie _wasn'_ a genius."

Slim looked over his shoulder and cast the smaller man an uncharacteristically dark look. Curly caught it and immediately shut up seeing how deadpan serious he was.

Hesitantly, Carlson advanced forward after Slim while eyeing the bodies somewhat suspiciously, almost as if he was suspecting them to leap up at the drop of a sycamore leaf from of the branches above. "So then, are you sayin' that Lennie gave George the gun?"

"Lennie never took the gun," Slim said. He stopped walking forward when he was standing just a few feet from both bodies. He glanced at Lennie's thoughtfully. Then he turned and knelt beside George's with a slowness that was just as cautious as it was careful. Gently, Slim reached forward and nudged George lightly. He was still limp, indicating he was only recently dead. With mild apprehensiveness, Slim moved his hand around to the front of the dead man's jacket, and he nudged it just enough to reveal the holster where Carlson's Luger would have fitted perfectly. "George took your gun, Carlson. He had it the whole time. I bet ya he saw Curly's wife lyin' dead in the barn and knew that Lennie done it. So he took it to protect Lennie from us."

"By killin' him?" Now it was Carlson's turn to sound incredulous. "But why'd he kill 'imself afterward?"

Slim was quiet for what seemed to be a very long time. Not too far away, a heron bleated and fluttered down from the sky to gracefully land on the water. It stood for a few moments before dipping his beak into the water and yanking his head back up. Caught in his beak and squirming was a little water snake, and the heron gulped it down out of existence. Slim finally said, "Curly, go into town after Whit. If you run into him before he manages to get the sheriff, tell him to get someone with a wagon instead. Its gettin' dark and the coyotes will be out soon. Better to move the bodies before dark when the coyotes can get 'im."

"Don't ya think that we ought to leave everything as is? This is a crime scene in case ya haven' figured out yet," Curly said spitefully. "It the coyotes get 'em, better them then them rabbits."

Slim suddenly stood, and he glared hard at Curly with his eyes narrowed angrily. "Jus' go, Curly. I ain't gonna argue with ya."

The two men stared at one another for a long time. A wind rustled the branches above the leaves on the ground scuttled a few feet. Some ways away and completely out of sight, the snake finished eating the mouse whole and it sat completely still under the cover of the tree. Finally, Curly threw his free hand up and he turned to walk after his horse. He said nothing and didn't look back.

Carlson said mildly, "He won't be gettin' Whit. He's gonna leave us out 'ere."

"Not if he knows what's good for 'im," Slim said. If he leaves us out here, the others 'ill know that he left us. He'll be havin' more to deal with on his plate than his dead wife." He turned to face Carlson with an expression that couldn't be described as anything but grim. "We'd better start up a fire to wait for 'im to get back. Keep them coyotes away."

Carlson sighed and moved away from the bodies towards the large sycamore. When he was there, he turned and pressed his back against it. He slid down heavily and just scarcely avoided sitting on the snake with a rather prominent bulge in his midsection where the dead mouse was now resting comfortably. The snake slithered away out of sight just as Carlson looked back towards the bodies. It was uncertain whether he was looking at Lennie, George, or both. "Poor guys. I didn' think it was gonna end like this for 'em."

Slim reached down and gingerly picked up the Luger from George's limp hand. "Yeah, sure thing," he said solemnly. He reached up with his free hand to take off his hat. With the Luger in one rough hand and hat in the other, he looked out over the water where the sun was starting to touch the tips of the mountains.

Just as he stood there watching the landscape, the snake slithered behind him towards the pool. It moved through the reeds for several feet, but then a heron plucked it clear from the water and took off to the sky with the sun shining down on its back. The shadow it cast below on the earth grazed over the mice hiding in the bushes below, and they watched with fascination as the bird vanished against the glare of the sun's fading, but still always brilliant light.

**Fin**


End file.
